


Fan

by Salambo06 (orphan_account)



Series: Fic Giveaway [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declaration of Love, Domesticity, First Kiss, Growing Up, Lots of reference to Star Trek, M/M, Sherlock is a Star Trek fan, sherlock POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: “Hey, Sherlock, want to see something cool?”Sherlock sighs, turning just enough to face the boy next to him. Phil? Philippe? “I highly doubt whatever you want to show me is “cool”.”The boy ignores him, shifting closer until he can show him the magazine he’s hiding under his textbook, “Look what my mom got me the other day!”Sherlock represses another sigh as his eyes fall to the cover of the said magazine. He frowns immediately, looking closely at the two men pictured on the cover. They are wearing what seems to be costumes. One of them even has ears that stick out of his dark hair. For some reason, Sherlock leans down just a little, eyes still fixed on the cover.“Do you watch it?” The boy asks, forcing Sherlock to look up again.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [florzinha2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/florzinha2/gifts).



> Hi everyone!
> 
> So this is the fifth of ten fics for my latest Fic Giveaway, and this one is for Thais who requested Sherlock being a Star Trek fan and for John to realise Sherlock is in love with him thanks to that!  
> Thank you so much for this prompt, and I hope you'll like it :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Pauline
> 
> Thank you to [Heather](http://snogbox1.tumblr.com/) for her job as a beta !  
> [My Tumblr](http://johnlockfulfillment.tumblr.com/)  
> 

Sherlock sits among the other students in his class, wondering if he shouldn’t risk it all and get out of here when the teacher isn’t looking. Even at age seven, he still can’t understand the reason why he has to attempt school. It is beyond any logical explanation, really. If Mummy hadn’t threatened to throw away all of his experiments, Sherlock would have found his way out of here the very first day of class without any remorse whatsoever.

“Hey, Sherlock, want to see something cool?”

Sherlock sighs, turning just enough to face the boy next to him. Phil? Philippe? “I highly doubt whatever you want to show me is “cool”.”

The boy ignores him, shifting closer until he can show him the magazine he’s hiding under his textbook, “Look what my mom got me the other day!”

Sherlock represses another sigh as his eyes fall to the cover of the said magazine. He frowns immediately, looking closely at the two men pictured on the cover. They are wearing what seems to be costumes. One of them even has ears that stick out of his dark hair. For some reason, Sherlock leans down just a little, eyes still fixed on the cover.

“Do you watch it?” The boy asks, forcing Sherlock to look up again.

“Watch what?” Sherlock replies, his eyes already back on the two men.

“Star Trek!” The of course is obvious in the boy’s voice but Sherlock ignores it. “Now there’s only the New Generation playing, but my Dad has the original series so I can watch it!”

Sherlock remains silent, finding it hard to look away from these two strange men. He bites his tongue, questions and questions running through his mind but none breaching his lips. He can still hear the teacher speaking in the background, and for a moment Sherlock thinks he’d be able to figure out just exactly what’s he staring at before the class ends.

“There’s even a new movie coming out soon,” the boy continues, unaware of Sherlock’s peeked interest, “with the first generation!”

“Can I-” Sherlock stops, forcing himself to sound as detached as possible before continuing, “Can I borrow it?” He nods toward the magazine, not missing the hesitation in the boy’s eyes. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“I guess, yes,” the boy finally says. “But tomorrow, right?” Sherlock nods again, sliding the magazine under his own textbook. “Ok.”

The urge to leave class and rush back home has never been stronger than that very afternoon. Sherlock is (as usual) the first one to leave the classroom, and for the first time, he runs back home without taking a single break to breathe. He makes sure to hold the magazine against his chest, secured and somehow, precious. He is being ridiculous, and he knows it, but Sherlock can’t bring himself to care. There is something about these two men, something about their clothes, something about these ears, that makes Sherlock’s brain fuzz with curiosity.

As expected, the house is deadly quiet when Sherlock opens the front door, and he climbs the stairs two by two, locking his door behind him as soon as he’s inside his room. He throws his bag on the floor, not caring at all about its contents, and sits at his desk. Slowly, he sets the magazine down and looks at the cover again. The two men are looking, no, staring at each other, wearing yellow sort of suits, and it feels as if they could have been looking at each other for hours. Sherlock’s eyes drop to the title below, the big letters reading “Star Trek, The Wrath of Khan.”, but not making any sense to him at all. Unable to resist any longer, Sherlock makes a run for his parent’s bureau and turns on the family computer.

He begins to read the article while he waits, learning about the making-off of what seems to be the second movie in the Star Trek universe. If nothing else, Sherlock learns the name of the two characters on the cover, and tentatively, he tries them both on his tongue, his voice echoing in the quiet room, “James Kirk. Jim. Spock. Captain Kirk. Spock. Spock.”

By the time his parents get home, Sherlock has learned everything there is to know about a certain captain and his crew, falling asleep that night with images of flying ships and a captain giving orders running through his head.

___

Sherlock is twelve when he finally attempts his first Star Trek convention. In the four years he has known about the series and its universe, Sherlock hasn’t spend a day without thinking about Captain Kirk and especially, Commander Spock. Mycroft had laughed but Sherlock has long learned to ignore him. If Mummy had seemed concerned at first, not sure what to think about Sherlock’s interest in such a common series, she had gotten used to it with time. Surely, the diners spent talking about Spock and his fascinating ability to repress his feelings had helped quite a lot. His father, on the contrary, had been delighted and had even started to watch the original series with him.

If Sherlock watches every second of every episode with wide eyes and even shaky hands, his father never comments about it.

The moment they get inside, Sherlock holds his magazines, art and videos tightly against his chest. He allows himself to smile when people comment on his costume, when they ask for a picture or when they tell him he does look quite a bit like Spock. He holds his breath when he asks for autographs, holds his breath when he recognizes an actor, holds his breath when he finally meets the founders of the Spockanalia. His father never complains, not even when he spends two hours explaining in great detail his own theories about the show and especially concerning the relationship between a certain Captain and his Commander.

When he heads back home, heart still pounding and his father humming behind the wheel, Sherlock wonders how long he’ll have to wait until he can go back.

____

Sherlock puts on, once more, his favorite episode. He presses play, settles against his bed frame and watches as Captain Kirk and Commander Spock once again share a meaningful silence, staring at each other while the world around them fades away.

He watches, stops breathing entirely and finds himself hoping he would, one day, meet a boy who would look at him like this.  
____

At age twenty, Sherlock finds drugs, or rather, the drugs find him.  
____

The day Sherlock moves into his new flat, DI Lestrade and his brother are both hovering at the front door.

“Remember,” Lestrade says again, “I’m allowed to make a drug bust whenever I want.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply, placing his skull on a shelf and looking around him. He doesn’t like it here, but then, he doesn’t have any other choice. It’s this or a drug den. The case or the fix. “I heard that the first time.”

“Just making sure,” Lestrade replies with a sigh. “Ok, I have to get back.”

Sherlock smiles as the DI glances at his brother before leaving with a shrug. Of course, Mycroft doesn’t move an inch.

“You know, brother dear, all this,” he gestures around the room, “it all rather seems, well, illogical.”

“Go away,” Sherlock replies, refusing to comment on his tease.

“Oh, do not be mistaken, I am glad you’re not falling back into your old demons,” Mycroft says, leaning on his umbrella. “I’m only concerned on how long it will last.”

Sherlock, refusing to even look at him, leaves the room and makes sure to slam his bedroom door behind him. He waits for ten, eleven, twelve seconds before he hears the front door closing, and he lets out a deep breath. He has been here for only ten minutes, and the temptation to run is already getting stronger and stronger.

Shaking his head, Sherlock forces himself to focus on what matters now. He has a chance at doing what he had always wanted, and he isn’t going to ruin it. Letting out another sigh, Sherlock goes for the only box on his bed, the only one he had personally moved from his childhood bedroom, and places it at the bottom of his wardrobe.

Maybe he could watch a movie tonight.  
____

On a rather boring day, Sherlock meets John Watson.

One month later, Sherlock is in love.  
____

“Fascinating,” Sherlock whispers, kneeling down by the body and looking at the chest wound more closely. “How long has he been here?”

“A homeless person found him early this morning,” Lestrade replies, standing next to him, “Our team got here immediately. Forensics tells me he must have been dead for at least five hours.”

Sherlock shakes his head, “Five hours,” he sighs. “Would someone dead for five hours still have beads of rain on his coat?” He swipes one finger on the fabric, wet. “Illogical.”

He hears Lestrade sigh, “Alright then, tell me.”

Sherlock ignores him, leaning closer, “John, take a look at this.”

John quickly kneels down next to him, much closer than Sherlock had expected him to be, “What?”

“The marks around the wound,” Sherlock replies in breath, forcing himself to stay focused. “Look older?”

John remains silent for a long moment, eyes fixed on the wound, “Much older, yes. Probably a day or two.”

“Fascinating,” Sherlock whispers again and doesn’t miss John’s smile. “We need to go to Barts,” he declares as he stands up.

“What about the body?” Lestrade asks.

“I need to have a closer look at the wound,” Sherlock explains, “make sure it gets there before we do.”

“Take it there yourself,” Lestrade says under his breath, sighing.

“That would be unwise,” Sherlock replies, already walking away. “I could steal it.”

John laughs next to him, quickly saying goodbye to Lestrade before following him out the door. “So, what do you think?”

Sherlock smiles, glancing at him, “A seven, at least!”

“Finally,” John says, nudging his shoulder against Sherlock’s arm, “I was starting to believe we’d never find a proper case.”

“You mean you were getting tired of losing at chess,” Sherlock replies, unable to repress a laugh as John rolls his eyes.

“It’s not my fault you’re a bloody genius at that too,” John mumbles. “Where did you even learn to play chess?”

Sherlock shrugs, waiving for a cab, “I just learned it, that’s all.”

John shook his head, following him inside the cab with a smile, “Bloody genius,” he says again before sighing, “So, I know you’ve figured everything out already, so why Barts?”

Sherlock frowns, “You know?”

“You have a tell,” John simply replies.

“I don’t ha-”

John stops him with a shake of his head, raising his eyebrow, “So?”

“Insufficient facts always invite danger, John,” Sherlock replies, looking back out the window, “I can’t be sure until I have all the facts.”

“Where do you find all these?” John asks after a few minutes, startling him.

“These what?” Sherlock asks, wondering what brought all these questions all of the sudden.

“Nevermind,” John replies, shaking his head again. “We’re here anyway.”

Sherlock remains still for long seconds, watching as John pays the cabbie and gets out. Once again, Sherlock finds himself wondering when John Watson will stop being a constant source of mystery.  
____

Ever since John moved in, Sherlock cannot watch another episode without noticing the similarities between Captain Kirk and his very own flatmate. He can’t stop himself. It’s right there, in plain sight. He has stopped counting the times Jim Kirk’s face had faded away, replaced by John’s, in his Mind Palace. He can’t stop himself. Can’t stop himself.

___

“James Bond movie tonight?” John asks one evening, putting their plates away while Sherlock finishes typing his latest experiment on his blog.

“Logical,” he murmurs, more to himself.

“What is?” John asks.

Sherlock sighs, looking away from his screen, “It’s Friday, you had a shift at the clinic all day and we don’t have a case. You always offer to watch a James Bond movie on days like this.”

John frowns, “Do I?”

Sherlock nods, focusing back on his computer, but John is now walking toward him, “I only offer Bond movies because they’re the rare ones you don’t hate.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Sherlock remarks.

“I know, I know,” John replies quickly. “But maybe if you were the one offering, we could watch something else.”

Sherlock stops typing, frowning as he looks up again, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

John rubs a hand against his neck, “Nothing, I’m just saying yo-”

Sherlock leans back against his chair, sighing, “Who told you?”

John seems to hesitate for a second before saying, “I researched all those catch-phrases you always use.”

“Catch-phrases?”

“You know,” John begins, a small smile on his lips, “Illogical, Fascinating, That would be unwise…”

Sherlock realises he’s blushing as he clears his throat, “I don’t always use them.”

John sits in front of him, “Yes, you do.” He taps his fingers against the table. “I wanted to ask you about it, but then I, correctly, thought you’d deny it, so I did some research.”

Sherlock waits, “And?”

John’s smile widens, “And despite hearing about it a lot, I’ve never actually seen Star Trek, so I wouldn’t mind skipping James Bond tonight, that’s all.”

Sherlock lets out another sigh, “Just typing these three sentences gave you Star Trek as result, really?”

“The third link was about Spock,” John replies and Sherlock shifts on his chair. “Seemed like an interesting character.”

“He is,” Sherlock replies before he can stop himself.

“So,” John smiles, “we watching or not?”

Sherlock stares at him for several seconds, searching John’s face and finding only his ever lasting smile, “Yes, we’re watching.”

Sherlock remains silent, unable to move, for the first twenty minutes of the series. John is eating chocolate, eyes fixed on the TV, the same smile on his lips. Sherlock doesn’t know whether to look at him or the the screen. This was a very bad id-

“I can see why you like it,” John suddenly says, leaning back against the sofa and glancing at him. “The chess, I mean.”

“They haven’t even played,” Sherlock replies, frowning. They don’t play chess for another five episodes.

“I spotted a chess game in the background earlier,” John says, turning to look at him. “I do observe, you know.”

Sherlock smiles, falling just a little bit more in love, “You do, yes.”

They stare at each other for long seconds, the movie playing in the background, and he sees John lick his lips before saying, “So, you like Spock best?”

Sherlock averts his eyes, feeling himself blush again, “I like his character, yes.”

It takes another minute before John says, “I can see that.”

Sherlock is too afraid to ask how.  
____

“John, you of all people should know that,” Sherlock exclaims one morning, a piece of toast in his hand and the morning papers on the kitchen table, “People aren’t trustworthy.”

“Why should I?” John replies, leaning back against the counter as he waits for the water to boil. He’s wearing only a white shirt and some pajama pants, and Sherlock finds it hard to look at him without picturing the compact chest and thighs under his clothes.

“You were in the army, you saw what people can do to each other over nothing,” Sherlock replies, eyes back on the papers.

“You clearly didn’t spend time in the army,” John laughs, turning to pour them both a mug of tea. “If you don’t trust your comrades, you don’t survive.”

“I know that,” Sherlock sighs, “It’s the war that’s illogical.”

John turns to face him again, his smile widening, “Still, I don’t see what any of this has to do with our case.”

Sherlock puts the papers away, sipping at his tea before saying, “All of these people, John, they knew they were doing something wrong, morally bad even, and yet they didn’t say anything.”

John remains silent before smiling at him, “The needs of many outweigh the needs of a few.”

Sherlock represses a smile, “You can’t quote Spock here, John. Especially this quote.”

“Why not?” John asks, frowning.

“When Spock speaks these words, he’s about to die, and he’s expressing here his own needs. He’s clearly talking about following the need of others instead of his own, which is obviously to remain by Captain Kirk’s side.” Sherlock’s eyes widen as he realises what he just said, and he clears his throat before continuing, trying to correct himself quickly, “He values their-”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed there was something going on between these two,” John cuts in, before drinking his own tea. “I mean, they’re quite obvious, yeah?”

Sherlock takes the time to breathe before saying, “Obvious?”

“Yes, with all the staring and smiling and casual touch- Sherlock, where are you going?”

“Out, Molly asked me to come by early,” Sherlock lies, putting on his coat quickly.

“You’ll be back for lunch?” John asks, and Sherlock hurries as he hears him stand up.

“Yes,” he calls before closing the door and heading downstairs, practically running out.

That had been too close.

Too close.

He goes to the nearest park and spends two hours resisting to urge to either smoke or go back and kiss John. He’s not sure which one is worse. He should have known John was going to notice. He had been learning to observe after all, and if Sherlock had been able to see the obvious at age ten, surely a grown man could too.

Closing his eyes, Sherlock lets himself wonder if John has also noticed his resemblance to Kirk, if he has made the connection with Sherlock finding himself in Spock so much. In the end, it is all so obvious, Sherlock thinks with a sad smile.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Sherlock jumps with surprise, eyes snapping open, “John?”

“When you ran off, I thought I’d offended you in some way, talking about my theory and maybe going against one of yours,” John continues, remaining standing in front of him. “But then you were the one bringing Kirk and Spock’s relationship up in the first place so I really couldn’t have-” He stops, taking a deep breath and looking at Sherlock for the first time since he arrived, “I’m getting lost there.”

Sherlock doesn’t say a word, he’s not sure he can anyway.

“What I’m trying to say, Sherlock, it’s that you resemble Spock in many ways,” John finally says, making Sherlock blush again. “The blushing, for example,” John says with a smile, “Spock spends his time denying he feels anything, that humans are weak for being afraid, for loving.” John stops, catching his breath. “You do too, Sherlock. That very first night, at Angelo’s, you did exactly that.”

“John, I-”

“No, please,” John cuts him off and Sherlock nods, his heart pounding inside his chest. “You deny every sentiment and just like him, it doesn’t stop you from feeling them all anyway.” He lets out a small, shaky laugh, “God, I’m making a fool of myself here. I don’t even know what I’m sayin-”

“When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” Sherlock replies, fighting the urge to close his eyes and flee.

John smiles, a fond, warm smile that makes the knot in Sherlock’s chest loosen, “Quoting him again?”

Sherlock nods, unable to look away.

“Do you keep them all and wait for the perfect moment to use them?” John asks, clearly trying to make them both relax despite his clenching hands by his sides.

Sherlock inhales deeply. It would be illogical to deny him anything right now, not when John is still here, in this park, asking him about Star Trek quotes. “My feelings are not subject for discussion, Doctor,” Sherlock whispers.

John steps closer, “I believe they are.”

Sherlock stands up, the urge to touch getting stronger and stronger, “Spock only accepts his human side because Kirk makes him feel all this, the fear, the longing, the love. Spock learns everything with him, thanks to him, because he realises he wants to feel it all, for him.”

“Spock is in love with him?” John asks, his breath now caressing Sherlock’s face.

“I believe he is, yes,” Sherlock replies in a whisper.

“And does Kirk love him back, then?” John whispers back, one hand coming to hold Sherlock’s.

Sherlock considers his next words carefully, searching John’s face once more and finding there the reflection of his own feelings. “You tell me,” he breathes out.

John presses them even closer, one hand sliding down Sherlock’s arm until he’s threading their fingers together, “I believe he did from the very beginning.”  
  
Sherlock’s eyes fall shut, a nervous laugh escaping him as he leans into John’s embrace, “John, we’re not talking about Star Trek, are we?”

He feels John shake his head, “No, we’re not.”

Sherlock’s entire body shivers when he feels John’s lips moving against his own, and it takes all of his focus to reply a weak and quiet, “Can we-” he stops, brushing their lips together and he feels John smile.

“I believe we already are,” John says in a breath, squeezing his hands, and Sherlock cannot believe this fascinating, brilliant man is love in with him.

“Joh-”

John’s lips are soft, so very soft, and Sherlock is certain he’s the one moaning, but he doesn’t care. He presses them closer, breathing John in, taking in everything. He can’t forget this, can’t miss a single thing. “Again,” he whispers as soon as John pulls away, and they are both smiling as John seals their mouths together again. It is nothing like the first kiss, and Sherlock wonders if every kiss will feel brand new.

“Let’s go home,” John whispers when they part after another kiss. Sherlock can only nod, too afraid to let go yet. “Think about it this way,” John smiles, tugging at his hand, “We can keep kissing all the way back home!”

Sherlock smiles, feeling himself blush once more as he says, “I think I prefer human’s kisses.”

John squeezes his hand and smiles, even laughs, and it is alright because Sherlock only has to lean in to make the sound his, and only his.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are really appreciated :)
> 
> [I do fic commission now](http://johnlockfulfillment.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-commission)


End file.
